I stepped over the threshold of the cabin, feeling like a cold glass of water. Cool, contained, and fresh.

  Cashius looked up from his nap, drool clinging to his bearded chin, his wrinkled clothes no less disheveled than when I left that morning. On the small table beside him sat a plate he had been using as an ashtray, a burnt-down cigar smoldering in it and stinking up the place. His eyes carried a mix of worry and forgetfulness.

  “Did it go right, boy? Or did you screw something up like always?”

  “Chill out, old man,” I said. “The champion not only lived up to the hype but also befriended a giant, killed a gang of leprechauns, and saved the people of Penders from abuse. So if screwing up looks like that, I’d say I did pretty damn good.”

  Cashius relaxed back in his seat and cracked a smile. “A giant, you say? That’s grand, my boy. Giants are reclusive and violent as hell. So violent, in fact, I almost fear asking why.”

  I told him about the ordeal at the ravine, how I defeated the leprechauns, and how they were running this bogus scheme with Malworth and using music as mind control.

  Cashius stood. “Very interesting indeed,” he said, stroking his beard. “Did you get any new gear? Something to help on our journey ahead?”

  I plopped the crate out of my inventory and watched it hit the floor between us.

  “Only this thing, which I saved till now.”

  My foot tapped it lightly, and the top sprang open, bathing us in light and the scent of new clothes.

  Sparks was the first to peek inside, landing on the rim and kicking her legs.

  Cashius rose from his seat and joined me as I dug inside and pulled out the reward from killing the gold suit-wearing leprechaun.

  “Now this is some serious business,” I said, holding up a pair of socks covered in swords, shields, and other pointy weapons.

  Back home, these would have been called fashion socks. Pretty common, and plenty of rappers had even started selling their own to make a little money.

  But the description called them something else entirely.

  Sir Vincent’s Woolen Footwraps — Common — Level 27

  

  

  “I needed these bad boys. All the walking we do here has my socks wearing thin,” I said, marveling at them. “I’m wearing them first thing in the morning.”

  Next, I pulled out a farmer’s shirt. No buffs, just plain white fabric with two pockets on the front.

  I checked the next item’s description before pulling it out.

  Nightshade Greaves — Uncommon — Level 26

  

  

  “Shin protection?” I asked. “Who needs their shins protected?”

  Cashius laughed. “Boy, there’s plenty of stuff that can injure your legs, you damn fool.” He returned to his seat. “If I were you, I’d definitely wear them and see if they add value.”

  I popped the items into my inventory, along with the few health potions.

  When I was done, the crate vanished in a cloud of smoke. Waving the air, I sat beside him.

  “In the morning,” Cashius said, “we’ll grab as many supplies as we can carry and continue on our way. Oh yeah, whether you know it or not, every time Linuux touches you in your dreams, his next attempt gets easier. When you sleep tonight, remember that bit of advice.”

  “How is that gonna help me? I’ll be asleep.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Try not to sleep too deeply, I guess,” he shouted.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “The last dream I had with that lizard scared the life out of me.”

  “You and me both,” he paused. “What we need to do is find that herb and stop the dreams altogether. But you were so adamant about chasing your little side quest that I let it go… now I hope you’ll listen.”

  I crossed my arms. “I needed that experience. Plus, grinding always pays off in video games. I figured since I’m stuck in one, I’d stick to the script.”

  “You’re right about that, but you forgot one thing… in this game, there aren’t any save points. Every half-thought risk you take could be the end of both of us.”

  I looked at him, opened my mouth, then closed it.

  “I’m going to make dinner and let you think about what I just said. Then, it’s off to sleep. I pray that damned Linuux doesn’t show up again,” he said, placing his hands on his knees and rising. “Now, go get freshened up, you and little Miss Firecracker.”

  Sparks smiled at his remark.

  I fell back into the cushions and wiped my hands over my face, turning his words over in my head. By the time I smelled dinner, I rushed into the bathroom and washed up.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  At dinner, we sat around the table, laughing and bickering as usual. Cashius gave more dour warnings, Sparks made funny faces, and I shoveled food between my teeth.

  Afterward, Sparks and I went our separate ways, eager to get some rest. As for Cashius, he stayed at the table, smoking cigars with a fierce look on his face.

  I looked at him over my shoulder and shook my head. A former killer turned teacher probably needed time to sulk, I guessed. Maybe in the morning, he wouldn’t be so grouchy and could enjoy some of his day.

  Or not. With Cashius, you never knew what to expect.

  * * *

  I slipped out of bed, grateful that the sinister dragon hadn’t visited me again, though yesterday’s battle still replayed in my mind.

  Malworth didn’t stick around after our battle with the leprechauns, but not before saying that if I ever found myself in the mountains, he and his brothers would welcome me warmly.

  He said I knew how to handle myself.

  I found it strange that he said that, but I paid it no mind. Strange times with even stranger creatures. All I said was, “For sure, big man,” and kept moving.

  Sparks had stayed in the sitting room the whole evening, patrolling and ensuring nothing and no one tried to kill us in our sleep. She and her overprotective self.

  I let out a deep yawn, stood, went into the bathroom, and came out fully dressed in my regular monster slayer uniform. Socks and greaves included.

  I liked the Mystscraper outfit, but turning into a werecat took a lot out of a young man. And there was always the chance that using that ability too much could change me into a werecat permanently.

  On top of that, the transformation process hurt like hell. The next time I put that thing on would have to be for a big fight. For now, pants, an enchanted shirt, my cloak, and a power chain would have to suffice.

  As I entered the kitchen, the smell of eggs and veilwolf meat hung heavy in the air, sharp and strange, reminding me of musty water and old cheese.

  I sat and turned my face from the meat, as if it might poison me.

  “Boy, it’s not harmful to you,” Cashius said. “It’ll even give you a boost to your luck for a few hours. Eat up.”

  I held a sliver of meat before my face, sniffing it, noticing how it felt between my fingers—the slimy texture and off-putting color of the flesh.

  “This looks like fricasseed squirrel ass,” I muttered, tossing it back down. “I’ll pass.”

  After killing so many of them and taking meat from a few, I wanted to trade it. But last night, after dinner, Cashius said it was nutritious and that we could survive off it for a few days.

  I didn’t think he meant this soon.

  I ate everything else except that rancid-looking mess, then cleaned up.

  “At least taste it,” he pleaded.

  I snagged a piece, tossed it in my mouth, and swallowed without chewing. “I hope you’re happy.”

  “Boneheaded ass boy,” he chuckled.

  I sealed the cabin and returned it to my inventory, then we walked back into town to stop at the general store and stock up on more items before we left. Particularly fresh meat. Because if Cashius thought I’d eat more of that veilwolf nonsense, he was mistaken.

  As we walked the path up to the store, the streets looked a lot livelier. Not bustling, but better than before. After all, I had rescued about twenty of the townsfolk yesterday. Definitely more people than when we first arrived.

  The first to speak was Sam, and let me tell you, seeing her all cleaned up made me feel bashful all of a sudden.

  Her smile was genuine, and her lips were painted a soft color that reminded me of dusk. Seeing her like that made me feel good about myself.

  She placed her hand on her wrist and pivoted on her heel. “Thank you for everything you did back there,” she said, then hugged me long and tight. “We’re all grateful,” she added quickly. “Even though we lost many to those damned leprechauns, you getting rid of them helped our small settlement.”

  I bent my lips into a smile. “It was nothing,” I muttered, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “I was just doing what my father would have done.”

  She batted her eyes. “Thank you again,” she said, kissing my cheek before running off.

  I reached out to her, but she was gone before I could get my words together. Sparks smirked, conveying all the unspoken emotions with that one gesture.

  Cashius walked past me. “Get your mind off those pretty little skirts and let’s do what we came to do.”

  I shook my head and followed. “You’re probably right, but man… she was stunning.”

  “That may be, but if we waste time on such matters, you’ll never complete the quest,” he said, stepping into the general store. “Now come on, let’s get supplies.”

  We picked up meat, a couple of snacks for the trail, and I stocked up on health potions along with a few buffs for strength and wisdom. Sparks insisted on more food for her mini grill, while Cashius grabbed alcohol and a shiny new lighter.

  The old shopkeeper gave us a fair price, out of gratitude for my freeing so many townsfolk. I smiled as we rode out, thinking about my time in Penders. Small and rundown as it was, the place had left its mark. I’d even made a friend who might prove useful in the near future—a big one at that.

  The rest of the afternoon, I cut down veilwolves while Sparks fired her missiles. Cashius drifted off ahead, sometimes drinking, sometimes smoking. When he circled back, he’d toss out comments like “good job” or “don’t get too cocky.”

  I’d check the map every so often to track our progress. I left markers in important areas, notes, and even noted when I saw something beautiful. By dusk, I’d set up the cabin, and we’d call it a night. Some evenings brought the worst dreams imaginable. Others, we slept like logs inside the walls.

  On this particular day, we rode up a long hill. The grind of the past days was etched on our faces. Even our clothes felt heavy now with how they hung from our bodies.

  We’d passed valleys and meadows, places with strange names and rare minerals said to grant unique abilities. We’d crossed forests where the trees stretched sky-high, and monsters lurked so strong I still wondered how I’d beaten them. Then there were the creeks, so pure and majestic that taking a sip felt like receiving a gift.

  By now, I was level twenty-eight. Cashius told me this zone—Adaris—was home to the sacred herb he’d mentioned a week ago. The one said to silence our dreams of Linuux.

  I hadn’t come across a stronger weapon than what I already carried, and truthfully, I didn’t need to. Havoc Maker was as rare as they came, and the werecat claws and Gorton Staff were just as deadly.

  Yes, sir. My newfound height had taken some getting used to, but now I was accustomed to standing six feet tall. Looking down on Cashius. Ranking up. My muscles had grown with me, too. Day after day, I swung my hefty sword more times than I could count, and I ran farther than I ever had back home.

  Even Sparks was changing.

  Not in her appearance, but in her spirit.

  She no longer sent the fearful jolts I’d grown used to. Instead, she pushed emotions that lifted me up. And let me tell you, when a battle fairy sends you motivational shivers, it hits different. It makes you want to be better than you were yesterday.

  Just now, she sent one that felt like curiosity, or maybe hope.

  Riding along a ridge thick with vegetation, the feelings Sparks sent filled me with pride for making it this far. Maybe, just maybe, this world was shaping me into someone I would have admired back in the old one. The man I was meant to be. Not like my father, but damn sure close.

  Gripping the reins, I pulled Misty to a halt. She let out a sound like a dog’s gruff, shook her head, then lowered her muzzle to graze on the short grass around us.

  Cashius rode up beside me, bringing his mount to a stop. His brows softened, his jaw easing as the wind tugged at the collar of his blue trench coat tucked beneath his chin.

  He turned his head. “Beauty like this only comes along once in a while,” he said, the sun glaring in his eyes. “And when it does, you make sure you absorb it. Store it for later, yeah?”

  I looked across the valley. “For sure, old man,” I agreed. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

  Sparks drifted slowly over my shoulder, her wings buzzing in my ear. Her tiny vest was open to enjoy the weather.

  “Here,” Cashius said as a gentle breeze rolled through, “is where we’ll find the Zaheer, the herb to mute the psychic connection with Linuux. And over the mountain”—he cleared his throat—“are the Harshlands. Home to the vicious but fair Flish’ar.”

  A moment passed, and the three of us admired the sight before us. Then I bowed my head and whispered a short but powerful prayer, asking for the strength to finish everything I’d set out to do here.

  When I lifted my eyes, Cashius had already dismounted and lit one of his famous cigars, puffing until the cherry glowed just right. “We’ll find the Zaheer in the morning,” he said, smoke curling from his lips. “For now, we set up camp and hope that damn Linuux doesn’t disturb our sleep.”

  I nodded, hopped off Misty, and gave her rump a light smack. “You got it, Gramps.”